Boxer and Sock in Don't Settle for Average
by MasterMeister999
Summary: Our two favorite chaotic angels both have knack for art. Who knew? Not this convention, it seems. Can the brothers push back the tide of mediocrity?


The Adventures of Boxer and Sock  
Don't Settle for Average

The young blonde haired man had a serious bone to pick, "You know what really pisses me off to no end?" Whenever something was on his mind his younger emo bluish haired brother was there to listen when nobody else would. They always had each other's back when the going got tough and were nearly inseparable.

Said emo bluish haired brother was listening intently, "What's that?" If there was one that these two renegade angels could not stand was seeing one other hurt by some outside source. When it came to their own folly, on the other hand, it was another laughable matter.

The blonde got to the point straightly, "The word average and people who settle on it!" Boxer elaborated, "Here we have people who aspire to be something greater than themselves, they bust their asses off going for gold, and they go home with bronze! God, it pisses me off!"

Sock could feel what was bothering his brother as it bothered him just as much, "I get it." Neither of the two not stand being equated to a commoner when they wanted to break free from the shackles of mediocrity. They both strived to be something greater than themselves and if that came off as arrogance then so be it.

Boxer continued to elaborate, "No, there's more. What really gets every fluid in my body boiling is when some people try their damnedest to stand out from the crowd, only for them to be labeled average by those who are in the crowd! It's like, hey, dildo, do you not recognize what point I am trying to get across?!"

"Some people just don't fuggin' get it," responded Sock. To expand on his older brother's plight, as nonconformists and seekers of enlightenment, another thing the pair despised was being told to color inside the lines in a sense. The brothers gravitated around breaking certain norms for the sake of change, for the sake of a world that that did not move to the beat of one singular drummer. They wanted to follow out their own desires in life, and the so-called rules were mere obstacles in their paths.

Have you ever wanted to be unique? Have you ever wanted to shatter said shackles of repetition yourself? If so, then Boxer has another story to tell right after he is finished cursing the fact that some people do not appreciate individuality.

"The fuck, they do! Like, remember this one time at that lame-ass convention we went to? Take this one from us, viewers, because I don't wanna see you as another fuggin' normie. The story goes like this…"

* * *

Here we are one bright and sunny morning at Daten City Church. The grass is green, the birds are chirping, Boxer is sewing in his room and…wait, what?! Yes, Boxer can be seen doing something quite unexpected in his room with both Sock's "borrowed" laptop and a sewing machine of all things.

Boxer was almost ecstatic, "Aw, hell the fuck yeah!" The blonde haired angel was in the midst of making something to wear, perhaps? It was not quite knowable as he never had shown an interest in fashion. In his excitement, he heard a knock at his door.

"Yo," he asked out.

It was his little brother Sock, who although was mildly annoyed that his older took his computer without his permission, he was still interested in whatever the hell he of all people would need it for along with a sewing machine. "Boxer, have you seen my laptop any… Hey! What're you doing?!"

Boxer was more than eager to have his brother check out what he was making together. "Dude, check this bitch-ass swag I made!"

"What's all this," Sock asked not so brightly.

"What's it look like, dick for brains? I made custom shirts!"

"Wha," Sock yelled out. Well, that caught him guard! His older blonde haired brother had a hobby besides trying to get himself killed again performing insane stunts?! Boxer threw one of his custom made t-shirts at his little brother so he could get a better look at what exactly he had been working on, and they would surprise Sock even more.

"Just look at these totally sick designs I made," Boxer said to his little brother, who left almost speechless at he was mesmerized by.

"…Whoa."

The design of the shirt was actually…quite excellent! The shirt was colored a bright taffy-like yellow and pink and had a drawing of some superhero like character doing an extravagant pose. "Coooool," Sock exhaled.

Boxer asked in his artistic pride, "Am I good or what?" He was totally unaware that Sock also had a similar hobby. With these revelations, the brothers were embark on a pursuit like no other.

"Yeah, but you should see some of the stuff I've been working on," said Sock.

Boxer's voice was filled with sarcasm, "Oh great. You have a hobby, too? Lemme guess, is it drawing yaoi?"

Sock was not having any of it today, "Fuck you. Read this shit and weep."

Sock took back his laptop and began to tap away at his keyboard. It was hard to believe that the two were sharing their pastimes to each other, or that they even had any. But suppose they could do anything they wanted to because they were nonconformists? Anyway, Sock brought up on his little computer and to his big brother his account on a website for…animation? Contently, he showed Boxer one of his cartoons. He was about to return the favor almost twofold for the awesome shirt design.

Boxer could only put out on at a time, "Ho. Ly. Shit."

Boxer mind was blown, "Duuuuude." The two characters in the animation that seemed to be in a duel were cartoony looking his big eyes that expressed wildness, and were doing equally wild things all over the place! They were dancing and jumping and flying and running and shooting like bullets. It was thick lined, fluid, and kinetic like something out of another cartoon that would appear right when you would get home from school.

Suddenly, Sock screamed in absolute delight!

His brother tried to calm him down, "Sock, relax. I'm impressed but you need to dial it back a bit."

Sock was jumping around in enthusiasm, "No, it's not that! I just remembered! There is this totally boss convention in town and we need to buy tickets!

Suddenly, Boxer screamed in absolute delight!

His brother tried to calm him down, "Bro, chill. It's just a convention."

Boxer was quick to correct him, "No! This is an opportunity! Go and get those tickets! If we reserve ourselves a booth at this convention, with our artistic talent we can score us some major cash!"

Suddenly, both brothers screamed in absolute delight! Boxer was right, this was a golden chance to secure their position at the top of the nonconformist food chain in further. Imagine the amount of dough they could make selling their items to people at this convention!

The thought of a certain black female priestess screaming the brothers' names at the top of her lungs held Sock back, however. "But Garterbelt'll never let us go." He was right that big bitch was always holding their leashes.

All of that changed with one loud, "ANGELS, GIT YO SKINNY WHITE ASSES OVER TO THE LOCAL ANIMATION CONVENTION THIS INSTANT! Ooooh, the Lord doth spoken of another ghost appearance!"

"You were saying, lil' buddy," Boxer asked Sock.

* * *

Getalifecon, it's the number one animation convention in Daten City! It's where all kinds of freak and geeks can get together to either get crunk or bitch about their close-minded opinions. The brothers had arrived early to reserve themselves a booth so they can show of their swag.

"Alright, let's set this bitch up," Boxer said as he was working on the monitor that would show all of the brothers' work and how they do it in an interview. Sock was busy scoping the site out for any cute boys as well as to score some other swag himself. "Sock, are you here to score some cash or some dick?"

"Why not both," Sock slyly asked.

"What," Boxer could not believe.

Sock quickly shot back, "Like I said, chill!"

"Not you, dumbass, I just got a text from one of the managers. They're having trouble setting our booth up. They shouldn't be because we came early like they said.

"Yeah, we should be the first ones all good to go."

Boxer then took a peak outside and it looked like the party was about to start. The parking lot was suddenly packed with said all kinds of freaks and geeks either in cosplay or as themselves. Boxer needed to hurry, "Fuck it, I'll do it myself!" So Boxer went to work getting the booth ready for major cashola. He fiddled with a few wires and played around with the panel tables and was all set in no time.

"Are we ready," Sock asked in gladness.

Boxer's body was so ready, "Fuck yeah! Bring the moolah, beeotch!"

It was a few minutes pass noon when an alarm sounded signaling that hailing frequencies were now open. In English, the con was beginning! Boxer and Sock both sat down in their booth with all or most of their content fully on display. There they were chillin' like ballers, the guests poured right in…and they were completely ignored. Boxer was pissed, "Umm, did I fuggin' miss something?

Sock didn't like this either, "The hell, man?"

Nobody seemed to have a care for what the brothers were showing, and it was good stuff! Not just good, but excellent! Here they were showing their imaginations on full display and how their creativity worked, and nobody was giving a shit!

"We need to grab people's attention. Sock do something," Boxer commanded.

"Oy, fucknuggets! Over here," Sock called out.

He honked an airhorn, but to no avail. The crowd of guests glanced over at them for a brief second, and then went back to buying crap, and I do mean crap, and it was liked that for the next few hours. The brothers were beyond pissed because if there was one thing they both absolutely reviled it was ignorance. More time went by until it was the evening and people were starting to head out the door. Boxer was ready to make a complaint loudly, "DAT'S IT!"

Boxer boosted out of the seat of his booth and moved toward a crowd of people who were about to exit the con. The minority point that he and his brother were trying to make was about to be tested by the majority. "Hold it right there! We are the Anarchy Brothers and we have spent this entire convention waiting for you guys to looking at our hotness and yet we get jack diddly fuck!"

One guess did not care, "So?"

Boxer bit back, "So?! Bitch, I'm about to… We have had our shit on display just as long as everybody else and are the first people to be seen when you walk right through the door! What do all of these other people have that we don't have?"

The brothers were in for another fight of their lives when this crowd representing the status quo as it would become apparent stood in their way of recognition. The crowd of ignorant nobodies then formed a line of side by side and they stared down the blonde haired angel. Boxer gave back a stare that was just as determined to prove his point.

The first guest stepped forward, "Do you really wanna know why we don't care about your 'art?'

"Please," Boxer demanded.

The same guest stood its ground, "You see, we don't care about your so-called art because it's completely unrecognizable and has no character whatsoever."

"Excuse me?! How?!"

"It's ugly and garish for one thing."

A second guest came up to stand by the first, "That's right. It's totally unnecessary that you show off this much. You like pretty colors, big whoop. What're you trying to prove?"

Boxer redirected, "What are _you_ trying to prove?"

Then a third guest stepped forward, "We are trying to prove that there is still good taste in this world. Everything was fine until you showed up."

"…Not this shit again," Boxer sunk. "You people are pissed off because I don't follow the rules, is that it?" It had to be this old song and dance again.

Unbelievably, a fourth guest intervened and that number would keep climbing, "That's correct. We don't appreciate what you do, it's tasteless and unoriginal."

Boxer defended himself, "I don't give a shit! Real artists steal ideas and break the rules all the goddamn time!"

The fifth would rise up, ""We don't appreciate them either. We prefer it if they spent their time developing their own craft so that they have an objective purpose."

Boxer made another attempt to redirect that, "Okay, fuck what 'we' want, what about what you want as individuals?"

The sixth shot back, "Individuality is overrated. Submit to the status quo."

Sock, who was watching from distance, couldn't take being ignored either and his voice rand out throughout the con, "BULLSHIT!" Sock jumped from his seat and ran over to stand by his brother for he had a point to make as well. The two were practically locking arms in the face of adversity.

Sock was armed and ready, "Let me ask you all something. Are you all really satisfied with the same generic shit being crapped out again and again? I sure as hell wasn't. Yeah, I may be still obsessed with yaoi, but I do have other interests. Unlike the rest of you, me and my brother have the courage to step outside of our comfort zones and explore new possibilities, why can't you? Are you so caught up in the cycle of repetition that you look down on anyone who doesn't conform?"

Here comes lucky number seven, "Just because you can doesn't mean you should."

Sock fired in return, "Fuck you, we can do whatever we want!"

Boxer was somewhat moved that his little brother would stand up and willingly take the heat with him for doing what they do. It's not like it was the first time, though. "Thanks, pal. Look, all we want is for you people to at least take a look at what we got. You can take it or leave it, but you're not gonna ignore us.

Guest number eight was about to cross the line big time, "Honestly, what you've shown us is average." That word, average. You could call Boxer every slur you could think of and it would be water off his back. However, if you dare to use the a-word, you would unleash a beast.

Boxer was enraged, "Average…? Just average?! Oh, let me tell you fucking motherfuckers something! Who is the average one?! Like I said, you take it or leave it, but we will not be ignored! You're the ones who deserve to be ignored! You play it safe and eat the same exact shit over and over again! You people change nothing!"

All eight guests shouted together in unison, "Silence! We will change everything!"

Sock was flabbergasted, "The fuck?!"

After this long and arduous confrontation, the crowd of people revealed its true nature. All the guests in the crowd began to transform into some sort of black sludge and collect altogether to form a single consciousness. All of the guests in the crowd were just part of an even greater ghost that took the form of some sort of human like creature with a cow skull for a mask, deer antlers, and wearing some garbs and wielding a katana!

Boxer should have known, "I should've fuggin' known."

The ghost spoke out, ""I am Apolito al Papuya la Papaya and I am the next in line to succeed the throne of warrior ghosts! I am also ranked number thirteen in the series of defenders of the gates of hell! I am part of a task force of…"

"Shut up, asshole," Boxer interrupted by blasting the talkative ghost square in the head, but it was only just one of many.

Papaya chortled mockingly, "Ha! What you destroyed was merely a clone of me!"

Sock took a slash at Papaya or at least his clone, and it only ended up creating yet another copy.

Papaya laughed out loud, "It is pointless! I can create clones, my clones can create clones, and the clones of my clones can create clones!"

Boxer questioned furiously, "How the fuck does that work?!"

Papaya answered, "By pulling it from out of my ass just like the show that I am parodying! Did I also mention that I am half ghost and half…"

"He won't shut the fuck up," Sock shouted as he was being manhandled by one of Papaya's clones, and in a matter of seconds as they were blasting and slashing away, the boys were swamped by copies of the ghost.

"As I said, it is futile! The only way to defeat me is by slaying the one copy of me that has my consciousness in it! But you will never find that out because we are always switching bodies! This reminds me of my days when I was a mere human. I was a young man in…," Papaya drifted on.

It seems the boys' geese were cooked, when all of the sudden a little voice could be heard. A little boy dressed in a sweater over a shirt, blue jeans, and tennis shoes with short apricot hair could be seen at Boxer Sock's booth where their stuff was supposed to be sold.

"Wow, this is some really cool stuff! Hey, can I have this," he asked wanting to purchase one of Boxer's custom shirts.

"Sure, kid. That'll be five bucks," Boxer replied from underneath the pile Papaya copies sticking his hand out, relieved that someone finally cared.

Papaya was disarmed by this, "What?! Why would you want that crap?!"

The boy casually answered undeterred by the look of the situation back, "Cause it looks cool."

Papaya made an attempt to correct him, "No, no, no! You can't just like something because it looks cool! You have to understand its coherent storytelling, complex characters, and deep themes!"

"Says who," he questioned.

"Says nobody," Boxer responded having freed himself from the pile with Sock. The brothers spotted the real Papaya and began pile on top of him when they weren't being piled on. Papaya foolishly exposed his real self when he began to argue with the little boy.

"Gah! I've been exposed," Papaya cried out. "Nobody has ever been able to uncover my secret except **OW**!"

Papaya was penetrated down by Sock's sword and Boxer's gun was pointing directly at his head.

"How's this for an asspull, whatever the fuck your name is? Repent," Boxer laid down the gavel. With one final blast he ended the ghost's life, though not before either begging for his creator to come and save him or damning him.

Papaya screamed, " **KUUUUUUUBOOOOOO!** "

As usual, the bells of Daten City Church rang out signaling that a poor unfortunate soul had been purified. The brothers got up and dusted themselves off of the ghost's remains and turn their attention towards the boy. He stood there with his normally blank expression that hid a smile.

Boxer extended his gratitude, "Thanks, kid. You really saved our asses."

The mysterious rescuer replied, "No problem. I was watching you guys argue with those people but I didn't wanna get involved so I hid. I also just wanna say that...I think you guys get more crap than you really deserve. I was always taught that art is an expression of the soul."

Neither of the brothers had anything to complain about.

The little boy finished, "It's really late, and I gotta go home. Keep doin' what you do. I'm rooting for you," and he waved goodbye as he scurried on.

The brothers were filled with more confidence now than ever, and Sock confirmed it by saying, "All it takes is one person to make a difference. It makes it all the more worthwhile to go against the norm, right, bro?"

Boxer concurred, "Yeah. If people don't like that we don't follow their definition of tradition, all I can say is fuck 'em."

Sock suddenly beamed with enthusiasm, "I got some good news! The con's gonna be going on for the rest of the weak! Maybe we can try again and sell more of our stuff!"

"Dude," Boxer blurted out, "You know what would be really fuggin' sweet?"

END

"Animated t-shirts!"


End file.
